Housing for a whole company of Marines plus headquarters support staff requires more than one hundred bunks for the Marines' enlisted personnel. Divided into two primary bunkhouses, each one holds sixty bunks, one bunk stacked over another against the wall with a table between each row and a thin bulkhead between the sections. Rather than the blue curtains of the naval enlisted, each bunk has a dark green barrier with the crest of the CMC done in black. The lockers for the Marines are triple the size of the Navy's allowances, each locker holding a Marine's personal bodyarmor and several different sets of uniforms plus combat webbing and helmet. The space physically provided in the lockers might be larger, but the allowance for personal space is less, though the drawers beneath each bunk help alleviate the problem somewhat.

Mon 18/Jun/2049 (IC Date)

Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Of course, Miri can't help but think about the big ops, and how she's going to be stuck waiting in sickbay. She almost wishes she was crooked and irresponsible enough to snag herself some pills. As it is, she's on her rack, failing to read a book.

"Sucks, doesn't it?" comes a voice that carries with it the distinctive edge of a Caprican accent. "The waiting. I always hated that part the most. Waiting for a combat op to finally start. Worse was the waiting for a combat op to be over that I couldn't be part of," Kapali admits as she takes a seat on the edge of the empty bunk that faces Miri's.

She hasn't heard that voice in twenty years. Miri doesn't recognize it at first. She looks up, and the color drains from her face. It's as if she's seen a ghost. Wait. She is seeing a ghost. "Yeah," she manages to say, mouth hanging open, unsure of how to proceed.

"A life lived without regrets is no life at all," Kapali replies as she shares that slightly crooked curve of a smile with Miri. In the place of the battle begrimed image that she would have last been, in life, she is instead dressed in a set of old colonial marine corps combat fatigues. Her hands are stacked over her stomach, fingers interlaced as she leans back against the head of the rack, legs extended, ankles crossed. "I don't regret how or when I died. I always sort of thought I would, you know. Be mad or something about it when the time came. But.. I really don't. I lived the life I wanted to live, all the way down to the last moment." She tips her head subtly, that edge of a smile fading into place again. "Why are we here?"

"Why are we here?" Miri parrots the words back slowly. She always thought she'd have some sort of smart remark for the day she finally got to meet one of the ghosts. She wasn't counting on it hitting this hard. She closes her book, leaning forward a little, bare feet swinging around to hit the deck.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bunk, Kapali scoots forward until she's mirroring Miri's position, though she braces her elbows on her knees and leans forward before speaking again. "Why are we here," she asks again. "We fought one war, and mostly won it. We had several years of mostly peace. Only to find out that maybe we didn't win it after all. You all had lives, some of you had families, and you gave it all up again when you lost two decades of time. But you're still here. The Orion. This ship, this fleet, this crew. All of you, still here."

"It's the right thing to do and we're the ones who know how to do it." Miri gazed across the narrow divide, studying Penny's face. "That's why we're here. Why are you here?"

The serious expression on Kapali's face is lightened again by that slow curve of a smile. "To remind you that you're not alone. This fight? It's bigger than this ship. This crew. This fleet. Is bigger than this one combat op, or any others that you guys have in the pipeline. So I'm here to remind you that you're not alone. Even when we were fighting the last war, when everything felt like and endless shit storm of a slog.. we were never alone. Death," and she gives a slow shake of her head, "is the end of all men. How we choose to live our lives, how we tell our stories, how we remember ourselves, our friends, our families, strangers that we meet in our lives, the decisions that we make matter. Even death," and there's that fine gleam of a smile again, "doesn't change our stories. It doesn't diminish who and what we are. It's never just about how we die, Miri, it's about how we live."

"I heard what you did for those pilots a while back," Miri says. "I heard you'd been bothering people. Heard Kelsey's been around, too. It's about time one of you lazy fraks comes to visit me." Miri keeps her voice low, leaning her forearms on her thighs. "Is Marcus there with you in dead-people land?" She regrets asking. She shouldn't ask. She continues anyway, voice cracking a bit. "You can tell him I'm doing fine. If you want." She clears her throat, then coughs. Someone's totally cutting onions in the Marine barracks. Yeah.

"Like I was going to let Lleu and Bennett's daughter die out there, in the cold, alone?" Kapali manages to sound just a little indignant at this idea. "We're here, Miri. The Captain," and she can only be speaking of Al Yamoha, "and her people gave up more than any of us can possibly explain, more than any of us can really understand, to stay and fight." To Miri's question she can only give a somewhat oblique expression before she leans forward and almost but not quite rests one hand on her shoulder. "He's not exactly where I am, and I can't explain, I'm sorry. But he knows," she says softly. "What you said, about this being the right thing to do, and you being the one ones who know how to do it? That's the sort of truth that resonates at the core, because it's not just words. It's not just an ideal. It's not just a slogan. It's not even fighting words. It's a truth. When you meet other people who are fighting the fight for the same reason, you recognize that truth. And it's the sort of thing that crosses cultures, boundaries, the dark of space and heck," that glimpse of a smile again, "the span of time and even death itself. That truth, that reason, is there any price to high, any cost to dear, that we're not willing to pay?"

"I don't know if there is. At least, we haven't found one yet. Give us time." Miri pats the rack next to her. "So so ghost visits run on a timer, or can you hang out and watch a movie for a bit? I've got some I think you'd enjoy." She rubs her eyes quickly with the back of her hand.

A breath of a laugh comes from Penny before she slides to her feet and for a moment she sits beside Miri on the edge of her rack. "I remember you, Miri Zahav," her voice is quiet again. "I see you, and I remember you. And no matter what happens next, no matter how long this war lasts, or how it all ends? I'll remember you. Live your life. Tell your story. And remember," she tips her head to the side and shares that slightly lopsided smile, "if you're asking yourself if what you're doing is right, you already know the answer. You've always known. Hold true to that sense of purpose. I'll see you again," she promises and, between one blink and the next, Kapali is gone.